” “I could have said more. “No, not that I know of,” Michelle replied, her still eyes not meeting Lucy’s. Her moods were many and always striking. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray.
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